One of the controversial events Tyr Throne instigated occurred nearly three years ago at his Duane Street Dance Loft, which was, since then, lost or rather returned into the domain of the building's property owners. Tyr negotiated a 10 year 2,000 a month lease for the loft and by the end of the term other lofts there were renting for 16,000.

Last night we were deciphering the Prepare to Meet Your Maker performance history for suggestions of where it will next go. The performance that Tyr stressed was most worth screening was the one he called the Rimshot performance because that was the one in which he told everyone to improvise freely, and, we could see when we started watching the performance, folowing a long and shocking process of figuring out which tapes it was on, that the 11 castmembers entering the stage 'round midnight on Friday, December 10th, 1999, were clearly "in their cups," milling about with drinks in their hands like guests at a cocktail party. (The exception, I believe, was Chris West. I was delighted to see how outrageous Chris became during the performance because when he first entered the screen he was clearly holding a water bottle.)

What a window into the past was this tape. To Tyr's credit -- and it is sometimes a chore to suggest to some people that there is anything to his credit, when there is, in fact, a lot -- he directed us to perform the show within an imaginary cone. He placed the camera on the front and center aisle. We filled the flat frame picture with action. This is a rather effective idea. Only cast action is within the video frame. When we moved back (upstage)we had plenty of area but when we moved closer toward the audience we imagined we were moving into the funnel tip of a cone.

So, thanks to a VHC camera that was already 7 years old at the time, we viewed the chaotic festivity; and everyone was, in a word, rambunctious.

Remember MASH (1970)? It was on TV the night before, and I imagined the chaos of being there versus the pleasure of watching it. I'm talking about the conditions that appear to have actually existed during the filming.

Onto the personal ego element of realization. I saw myself playing Quasimodo, the lead role, in the videotape. In case you don't know, I'm a skinny fellow. I weighed 130 and looked kind of frightening and, well, like we were saying about John Candy and early Jim Carey, I'm acting almost like a whore for the comedy. Why is the implication contained in that statement encouraging to the audience? Actually, I'm miles away from my inner whore. Since when do I have dignity? Elegance is incidental. Children forgive me, your shameless, issueless father.

My last performance as Quasimodo was in December of 1999.
Tony Hightower took over at the height of the PTMYM popularity, as you may also know, but even before, the Tyr Throne backlash was clearly formenting, something that concerns me still, since it is pressure from many sides that suggests I break off involvement with him, and I once again affirm the benefits of his company. By the way, Tyr benefits from interaction with Gabrielle Roth, who must be quite an inspiring person. He called the Prepare to Meet Your Maker script "a map." He believes in shocking people into aliveness. I do, too.

Actors get the benefit of learning from their participation in the organized social interaction that is their script.

Audiences get the benefit of kernals of inspiration from observing from a safe distance a disorganized mess.

An expose' on the inner workings of the meme infested brain of Peter Dizozza.

Ah, the words of that great songwriter, David Byrne, come back to me as I open these pistachios...
"They say animals (ana muls) are hairy. They're living on nuts and berries." mmm, good. More nuts, more berries.

I love the moment, "Some people don't know... shit about the Ayyyyyyyyyyer." ( from "Air" on that live four sided talking heads album, the one where he coughs out, "mee mow mow, mama me mow mow.") I also love the song on there about "The Book I Read was in your Eyes." Is that the one with the chant, "wash that love away"? I think so. There is happiness in discovering that one's yelping can be pleasing.

It helps to have easy access to music, but there is a glut on the market, I think in all areas of US culture, disposable hundredmilliondollarmovies, more music than I can listen to in a weekend, in fact, why don't I a) listen to more music, b) see more movies, d) watch more TV shows, e) attend more live shows... I don't now and when I did, well, I was very controlling of the circustances under which I did. I enjoy my own material, it's full of illuminating surprises... I want an audience. Come on, I want to BE an audience. What if I told you I only write to fill what's lacking in what's already out there? It's true. I've gotta get more pistachios.

Art is my consolation. Trash it if you must. Our value system is askew, and I would dare to willingly profit from that.... I'm currently paying 120 a month for it, oh Time Warner Cable, would it were provided to me for free.

A friend faxed the inheritance letter from South Africa, she's the lucky recipient and if she doesn't claim it, it reverts to the South African Government, those scoundrels, of 25 Million Dollars!!! Then comes the letter from Canada requesting a transfer of 6500 in administration fees. They'll even loan her the money.

I get something intangibly helpful from entertainment, but it's helpful for me as an entertainer. We are experiencing a glut from good entertainers. In fact, when I hear inspiring music I want to and actually start to write. That's not self motivation. That's the bandwagon. But everything arises out of something else, it's just some things only affect a few of us.

We all know that Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but can you imagine calling The Crown Prince of Denmark a pretty nice boy? Oh yeah. Yeah, yeah yeah. He is.

I'm listening to songs by Serge Gainsborough (thank you, Adam Green). Randy Newman (thank you, Brian Wayne) and Ben Folds (thank you, Kenny Davidsen).

All right, I saw the Palestinian film. There was formerly a British Colony, whose contract expired in the 1940's, called Palestine.

There was also once a country called Lebanon.

Moving right along, there was also a performance last night at the Bruno Walter Auditorium of songs from Johnny Johnson by Paul Green and Kurt Weill. We caught the last four pieces. What beautiful music!

I adopt Mr. Suleiman's suggestion of a world without borders. Does that mean I let people walk into my apartment at will? Yes, and they do not. They have their own lives to lead. Better we work together. Everything I have and am are yours!

The New York Film Festival is in its fortieth year! The panel respects the right of expression. Last night we saw a comedy produced by an auteur from Palestine.

I'm taking atenolol. And tegretal, a name I just made up because I never heard it before, is actually a name for another medication. Try it sometime. Make up something believable, or even unbelievable, and, surprise, it already exists.

Yeah, I'm actually feeling quite weird regarding my heart's ability to palpitate uncontrollably in a uselessly short-circuited rhythm. What's the sequence? Oh, forget it. I'm taking tegretal. Also, I lost my keys out of the hole in my jacket. Also, I managed to have a superhoot with no one there. I had a good set. Other people were there staying after the act before or waiting for the act after and I received 20 dollars in tips for a half hour set. Your events are what you make them, and sometimes more. I disappointed Fenton Lawless who came out for the superhoot. Apparently there was no 10:30 act so there was dead space from 10:30 until 11. That's what I get for leaving during the prior act. I'm on jury duty, too. The criminal cases are fascinating, but stupid! A rich callgirl cocaine afficianado calls his DEA friends when someone tries to extort from him, the other two I know less of... One involved asking the prospective jury the question, Do you have any reservations about the gypsy people or, as they are called, Gypsies???? Then one about an eccentric memorabilia collector who may have been robbed by a long haired lanky friend.

I'm transferring notes from a piece of paper, one step from being refuse, to the electronic media! Having just jumped from the michaeldouglas.blogspot I will proceed with the Goethe/Lange Werther quotes: Stir within me sensations of love, joy, rapture and delight, which I already possess, though otherwise dormant. I must already possess them for you to be able to make me feel them, because you cannot make happy he who stands before you cold and indifferent. -- that's quite a paraphrase. Werther was leaving the company of a prince to return to his principle obsession/love interest, the married Charlotte (She gives me access to all I possess.).

Here are some of his problems with the prince:

And now, here he is, talking only of things which he has either read or heard of, and always from the point of view from which they have been represented by others, it's The Prince!

I lose patience when, glowing with imagination, I express my feelings about art and nature and he, thinking to be especially understanding, spoils everything with his cliches!

Finally, "I have heard of a noble race of horses that instinctively bite open a vein when they are hot and exhausted by a long run, in order to breathe more freely. I am often tempted to open a vein to gain everlasting liberty for myself."

(Paraphrases and quotes from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther (1774), translated by Victor Lange (1949).

nothing nothing nothing monumental momentary clarity nothing nothing repeat repeat repeat repeat

Moods are off kilter tonight.

The words that reduce me to tears, sung by composer Kate Bush, are "I just know that something good is going to happen. I don't know when, but just SAYING it can even make happen."

"Comfort ye, my people."

One indictment of selfishness after the other... I'm selfish. It limits me. I go from one avoidance to another. I got a taste of something last night, of limitless possibility, and I became afraid of the serendipity. Behaviour is predictable, especially the behaviour of the unobserved.

That dip in the Atlantic Ocean yesterday during Patsy's party really unrested my inner expansiveness! Help.

Emmanuelle Seigner is married to Roman Polanski. She makes looking tired look good. Thank you for that and good night.

I really have to cut out this 120 dollar a month all in one time warner cable. "Who the hell are you to touch my niggers?" It's Mandingo, a movie about to burst with violence but for now, it's just master slave sadism. This movie was everywhere meaning along the subway walls in a monster ad campaign when I was riding that old F train to Arch Bishop Malloy High School. I'm shocked to see James Mason doing an accent job on the US South. "Marry a white girl, then no more black girls, can't have 'em." "Oh yes you can, saves her from having to submit and when she do you keep on your shirt and drawers..." "New Orleans, that's the place to go, they remove clothes there." Mason has his feet on the cute little black boy and now it's time for a horsedriven carriage ride. The slaves are a marchin' with their american flag leading the way. What am I watching here at 12:24 Thursday morn? Tomorrow, perhaps to the Guggenheim, all I have to do is find the invitation for the Moving Pictures Exhibit opening. "You got that old Mandingo buck, the best fighting niggers..." I see a Spartacus in the making... The hotel staff just dropped off the girls for the guys, little black girls pawed by the white men. You take the virgin, I don't want no hard work. Wap, slaps the no hard worker, a real surprise for her. "Yes master." This does play upon issues of inadequacy and domination. These guys need serious therapy, or serious acknowledgment. One of the guys is sickened by the others whipping tendency. The pretty skinny girl with the tightly cut hair looks compassionately back at him for being different, for caring what a white man does with his wenchy. His leg is somehow lame... Oh, it's getting romantic and except for their size the male and female could be compatible. "I like you, sir... please you..." Tears for both. Press the info button. 1975.

I liked Ghost World, an infinitely watchable film, nearly 'til the end, it's the sequel to Revenge of the Super Nerds Part One, which is better known as Crumb. (Thank you, Queens Library DVD Collection)

I saw the exact same portion, the last hour, of Polanski's The Ninth Gate, again tonight following my visit to Don Shaw's for some Latin Jazz playing, an experience that stands apart from my daily activity, as does the experience yesterday with Amachi...

Ah movies. What impressed me, and that's what the mysteries of 8 will consider here, was the Ninth Gate's ever changing landscape. It is an elegant film. Note that Lena Olin recieves suitably sadistic treatement, Polanski subtly stimulating the sadists with the details, her nudity beneath the cape, her flesh wobbling when Frank Langella kicks her away.

Do you expect me to believe The Ultra-Elegant Johnny Depp concerns himself with finding the book pieces for himself? I can't imagine, although he has a convincing response to his delightful female companion, Emmanuel. Okay, I'm posting now, I'm looking up info on her quirkiness. I rather enjoyed their interaction. In fact, I rather enjoy the film. Is that great filmmaking on a panderingly popular level? I love Polanski's film, Cul de sac. For reasons perhaps perhaps obvious to all but myself,
I feel very close to his work.

Tomorrow is my 15 year Law School Reunion and the opening of The Prepare to Meet Your Maker SIng-A-Long Song-A-Thon at the WAH Center. How to attend both... hm.

In 1949 Maurice Sandoz wrote about the Tsatsa, the Jivaro's shrunken head (The woman for whom he was obtaining it dies before he can give it to her! His head, thereafter, shrinks while the Tstasa's head expands. The fun in the story precedes these disappointing denouements.). The book containing this and other stories about conversations with the insane, with illustrations by Salvador Dali, is entitled "On The Verge."

Go forth with the intent to do something and see what you get. If you don't find love, the consolation prise will be to achieve what you set out to do.

The mixture of elation and sadness is extreme again. It is tempered with an unusual hope based upon the uniqueness of the circumstance, despite its elements of familiarity. It's something new based upon a new combination.
For those who don't know, 'cause I didn't...
1. You ask me challenging questions about myself.
2. I answer.
3. You listen.
4. I fall in love with you.

It's narcissism. I do the same with you. It's narcissism. Two people in love? Narcissism. Speaking like someone who knows about this is also narcissism.

Edward Di Maio came by the office today. I worked with him in the distant past and knew him as Eddie Dimaio. He resides with a family of Quakers in Lafayette Indiana. Major breakthroughs occurred in his life when he met his father -- he no longer needed to look for his father in other people. He teaches breathing as a meditation and is preparing for publication a book of poetry. His website is http://www.thefaceofmay.com.